


Kissing You Would Probably Suck (Except It Wouldn't)

by Pugglemuggle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also hunk (voltron) deserves better than to have to deal with these stupids, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Comedy, Dumb boys are dumb, Dumb boys being dumb, Embarrassing Situations, Hunk (Voltron) is a Bro, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance did not need this crush in his life, M/M, Mind Meld, POV Lance (Voltron), Team Bonding, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle/pseuds/Pugglemuggle
Summary: Team breakfast was not exactly an ideal time to realize that you wanted to jump your teammate’s bones—especially not when you had a whole day of team training to look forward to afterwards.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokesque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesque/gifts).



> This is a gift for [smokesque](http://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesque) as a part of the [Voltron Fanworks Exchange 2016](voltronexchange.tumblr.com)! I hope you like it! I'll be honest: I have about half of the Shallura Body-Swap fic that you requested written, but I realized a little too late that the fic was going to end up being a _lot_ longer than I had time for, so I only had time to finish this one. Tl;dr, you have another fic on the way in case this one isn't quite your taste.
> 
> ....This fic was literally in my google drive as "Dumb Klance Fic". These boys are just a pair of oblivious messes and I love them.
> 
> I decided to use Sanchez and Gyeong as Lance's and Keith's last names respectively, for... reasons. Dirty Laundry reasons. They're good last name choices, sue me.

It was sort of dumb, actually.

One minute Lance was sitting at team breakfast, feeling tired and generally annoyed at Keith, as usual. Keith had taken the last bread roll-thing just as Lance was about to reach for it, and now Keith wasn’t even eating it—it was just sitting on his plate, lost and alone. Lance was sure Keith had done it on purpose.

 _“He’s so...”_ Lance thought, trying to pick out the perfect adjective to describe how much of an asshole Keith was. There was a word floating in the back of his head that was _just right_ , but he couldn’t seem to get ahold of it. He’s so.... He’s so.... He’s so _what?_

 _“Hot?_ ” his sleep-deprived brain supplied helpfully.

“ _Yes!_ ” Lance thought, then slammed on the metaphorical brakes so fast he probably gave himself mental whiplash.

Hold the fucking phone.

He tried, for a minute, to pretend that that intrusive, treacherous thought had never happened. This failed. He tried seeing if he could block it out, but as soon as he considered ignoring the thought it was the only thing he could think: _hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot_. His tired shitshow of a brain apparently really liked to spit out random thought-bombs specifically designed to ruin Lance’s day. His last line of defense was to see if he could try to rationalize the thought away, which, at first, seemed to actually be somewhat effective. Lance was exhausted. He just woke up. His mind was just throwing out random words because he was too tired to function properly yet. Keith was an douchebag, and douchebags by definition weren’t hot.

That all went down the drain as soon as Keith spoke.

“Hey, Earth to Lance,” Keith said. “Why are you staring at your plate?”

Lance whipped his head up to look at Keith, which was a Grave Mistake. All of his carefully sculpted rationalizations disintegrated faster than.... faster than something fast. His brain broke. His life was over. The universe seemed to implode.

“U-Uh,” he said intelligently. _Hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot._

Keith frowned, his gray eyes narrowing in a way that was more accusatory than concerned. “You didn’t choke, did you?”

_Keith is hot. Keith is hot. Keith is hot. Keith is hot._

Keith, a hot person, was really staring now, his brow raised skeptically ( _hot_ ), his hair still a little messy from sleeping ( _hot_ ), his pink lips ( _hot_ ) curving into an even deeper frown that was somehow sexy instead of frustrating. It was like Lance’s eyes were glued open and paralyzed. He literally couldn’t look away from Keith. Holy fuck. He was going to die.

“Hey, dude, are you okay?” Hunk said to his left.

Lance felt like he was physically ripping his eyeballs out of their sockets when he finally stumbled to his feet and abruptly yanked his gaze towards the ceiling. “I’m, uh,” he fumbled. “I don’t feel—I need— _shit._ Bye. _”_

He fled the breakfast table.

“Did he just say he needed to shit?” he heard Pidge ask faintly before he was completely out of earshot.

Lance all but ran back to his room. As soon as his bedroom door was closed behind him, he proceeded to bang his head against the wall a couple times and scream into his pillow.

He thought Keith was hot. He thought Keith was attractive, physically. He was physically attracted to Keith. To _Keith_.

“ _Kill me_ ,” he begged his pillow. The pillow did nothing, because it was fucking inanimate.

This was going to be a nightmare.

—

As it turned out, it was worse than a nightmare. It was _hell_.

Allura was militant. She would not allow her training regimen to be disrupted by what they were apparently dubbing the “Lance Breakfast Freak-Out Incident”. He had barely fifteen minutes to sulk in his room and pray for the sweet release of death before Allura was hauling him out and shoving him towards the training deck.

“The rest have already started fighting against the training robot,” she said. “You’ve all improved a lot in terms of teamwork but you still have a ways to go, so we can’t afford to have you lazing around like this!”

“I wasn’t lazing around!” Lance said defensively.

“Really? Then what _were_ you doing?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“I—” Lance began, then stopped. He decided that he didn’t exactly want to tell Allura that he’d been struggling to come to terms with an intensely traumatic and emotional self-realization. “I was... sleeping,” he said awkwardly.

Allura looked unimpressed. “Hm,” she said. “That sounds an awful lot like lazing around to me. Get to the training deck before the others defeat the robot without you.”

“Okay,” Lance said meekly. He went to the training deck.

Everyone had already finished cycling through the warm up combat settings by the time Lance arrived. For some reason, Lance had sort of been hoping that Keith wouldn’t be there, which was stupid, because Keith was always training even when they weren’t doing group exercises. Sure enough Keith was waiting with the others, sitting off to the side and looking unfairly attractive in a tight-fitting T-shirt with his jacket tied around his waist. Lance turned on his heel to leave, because _he could not handle this right now, goddamn it_.

“There you are, Lance!” Hunk called out, foiling Lance’s plan to flee. “How are you feeling, buddy? You had us worried.”

“Oh!” Lance said. He turned around and tried to put on an expression that hopefully didn’t make his debilitating existential crisis quite as obvious. “I was just, uh. I think I got some sort of food poisoning, haha! Guess my stomach is still adjusting to space food.”

Hunk looked decidedly unconvinced, but the others seemed to be buying it. “Are you feeling better now?” Shiro asked.

Lance nodded fiercely. “Yep! I’m peachy, good as new! We should get started, right? Can’t waste any more time, haha!”

“Says the guy who shows up late. Get your flat ass over here so we can start, dipshit,” Keith said. Lance felt his cheeks burn with the flames of the living hell he’d surely just descended into. This was the worst day of his entire life.

In his defense, this wasn’t a gay panic thing. He’d come to terms with his own bisexuality back in his first year at the flight academy when he’d developed an embarrassing and short-lived crush on Hunk. But while that awkward crush had actually ended up resulting in the best friendship he’d ever had, Lance highly doubted that this... _thing_ with his teammate and archrival would have any kind of positive outcome. This _Keith thing_ , Lance thought, was just downright humiliating. Keith had an honest-to-god _mullet,_ for fuck’s sake. Before joining Team Voltron, Keith had lived _alone_ in a _shack_ in the middle of the _desert_. On top of all that, Keith was also bitchy and rude and impulsive. He probably listened to annoying emo music from the early 2000s, like Evanescence. He probably put his milk in before the cereal. He probably didn’t even know who Beyonce was.

Lance was so fucked.

They started the training robot at a fairly easy level. It wouldn’t have been too bad, except it was. Every time Keith would talk to him to say things like “Duck!” or “Behind you!” or “Watch out!”, Lance would just freeze up and get hit, which wasn’t fun. Every time Keith would try to make eye contact with him to coordinate some sort of attack, Lance would lose all focus and forget what they were doing. It sucked and Lance was going to end up with a lot of bruises.

What sucked even more, though, was the way that Keith would take it upon himself every now and then to get right in the middle of things. Keith was _good_ at fighting. He knew how to dodge, how to slash, how to parry attacks. Lance’s mouth went dry when Keith dropped to the floor swung out his foot in a perfectly executed sweeping kick. It was a ridiculous, because yesterday if Lance had been watching this, he would have just been annoyed by how much better at this Keith was. Now he was still a little annoyed, of course, but mostly he was just turned on. It was like some kind of completely unfair cosmic switch had been flipped when he had that delirious sleep-deprived thought at breakfast. _God_ , this was stupid.

After getting decked for the sixth time in a row because of Keith, Shiro called for the robot to stop. “Lance, are you sure you’re okay? You seem really distracted,” Shiro said.

Lance wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. Hunk was giving him a Look™. Great.

“How about we go do some weight training for a little while?” Shiro suggested. “You can get your focus back and then we can move onto some more group work.”

Lance tried for a weak smile. “Sounds good.”

Hunk fell back with Lance as they all made their way to the gym.

“So,” Hunk said. “Keith, huh?”

Lance flinched and kept his eyes forward. “What about Keith?”

“You know what.”

“Nope. I definitely don’t.”

“Lance, please,” Hunk sighed. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know better than most people what you’re like when you’re crushing—”

“Shh!” Lance hissed. “We agreed not to talk about that!”

“Fine, but you gotta answer my questions then. When did this all start?”

“At breakfast this morning,” Lance muttered reluctantly. “I was angry at him and then it was just sort of like... boom. Out of nowhere. Congratulations, it’s a boy, you know?”

“...Not really,” Hunk said, side-eying him. “Can I be honest with you?”

Lance looked at Hunk skeptically. “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

“This doesn’t really seem that out of nowhere to me.”

“What?!” Lance said, a little too loud. Pidge glanced back to raise an eyebrow at them but otherwise made no comment. Lance waited a couple extra seconds before saying, “What do you mean? I literally didn’t even like the guy before this.”

“Right,” said Hunk. “Maybe I would have believed you when we first formed Team Voltron, but that’s not going to fly now. Things have changed. You guys are friends.”

Lance frowned, because Hunk was sort of right. “Okay, fine, we’re friends. But he’s still, like, super annoying. We argue all the time.”

“Sure, but you don’t even argue about important things anymore—you just bicker. It’s like flirting, only with more ego.”

“It is _not_ flirting.”

“Okay, let’s say it’s not. How do you explain the way you’re, like, constantly obsessed with him? You’re always trying to get his attention, and you’re always trying to impress him, and you’re always talking about his hair.”

“His hair is stupid.”

“It is!” Hunk agreed. “So why do you talk about it literally _all the time?_ ”

“Because... Because it’s _stupid!_ ”

“There’s a line, Lance,” Hunk said. “There’s a line between normal levels of teasing and _weird_ levels of teasing, and you crossed that line. Think about it.”

Lance thought about it.

“Okay,” he admitted. “I might have been crossing that line.”

“You did.”

“But so was Keith.”

“Yes.”

“So it doesn’t have to mean anything. Because Keith did it, and he’s straight.”

Hunk snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hunk said, smirking. “I just think you probably need to double check your assumptions is all.”

“So, is Keith... _not_ straight?”

Hunk shrugged. “I dunno, man. How straight can he be if he checks you out whenever you’re not looking?”

“He does _not_.”

Hunk just shrugged again. “Fine. Whatever you say, man.”

They walked a few seconds in silence.

“Does he really, you know, check me out?” Lance asked.

“I guess you’ll get to decide for yourself during weight training,” said Hunk.

Oh shit. Weight training. Muscles and stuff. Keith getting sweaty. That was a thing that was going to happen.

“I am so fucked,” he murmured quietly.

Hunk just squeezed his shoulder. Lance wasn’t sure whether to take that as sympathy or confirmation.

Both, probably.

—

Weight training was, at first, surprisingly not as horrible as he thought it would be. Lance had made a plan. For the most part, he decided to try to avoid Keith as much as possible, which was very sensible. It meant minimal Keith exposure. For the first twenty minutes or so, he actually got some quality exercise time in without Keith being there to ruin his focus. His plan was working.

And it might have continued to work, if Keith hadn’t been so goddamn weird.

Lance was doing bench presses, because it looked cool when he did it, even though he wasn’t able to lift a lot of weight. He was starting to get into a rhythm. _Up, down, 5, up, down, 6, up, down, 7...._ The burn was persistent but not unbearable. He was just beginning to work up a sweat, too, his hair sticking to his forehead and his shirt clinging to chest.

When he saw Keith standing next to him he almost dropped the barbell.

“What are you doing?!” Lance squawked. “Why are you just standing there?!”

“I’m waiting my turn on the bench,” Keith said. His eyes seemed to be focused somewhere around Lance’s neck and his cheeks were tinged pink—from exercise, Lance thought desperately. _How straight can he be if he checks you out whenever you’re not looking?_ Shut up, Hunk.

“Besides,” Keith continued. “Aren’t you supposed to have someone spotting you so you don’t hit yourself with the dumbbell?”

“It’s called a barbell. Dumbbells are the small weight things you hold in one hand,” Lance corrected automatically. Keith just raised an eyebrow and—fuck, he was definitely a lot redder than normal and he was _watching him_ with those _eyes..._.

“You’re avoiding the question,” Keith said. “You need a spotter, dumbass. As much as it would be funny to see you drop that on your face, I think we need you intact to form Voltron, so.”

“So what?” Lance asked, but Keith was already moving behind his head, hovering above him and letting his hands settle just underneath the metal bar. Keith from this angle was... shit. Lance forgot what Keith had said again. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Spotting you,” Keith said, like it was that simple. “And then when you’re done, you can spot me.” Lance gulped.

“Fine,” he said. He was already fucked so he might as well go down in flames. He started another round of reps.

Lifting weights was damn near impossible now that Keith was there, standing above him, watching. The weights on the barbell felt twice as heavy, the bar itself twice as cold. Or maybe his palms were just warmer. They were sweating at least, that was for sure. After five more reps, he was really beginning to strain. On the sixth, he made the mistake of locking eyes with Keith. He lost his focus completely, his arms wobbling enough to send the bar slipping from his slick hands, and—Keith caught the barbell.

“See? This is why you need a fucking spotter,” Keith said. “Pretty sure this is one of the first things they teach you in P.E. at the academy.”

“Yeah, well, I was never too good at paying attention,” Lance said stupidly. What the fuck was he saying? He needed to shut up. Also, he needed to stop staring back at Keith.

“Well, I hope you at least know how to spot. Move off the bench, Sanchez. It’s my turn.”

And if Lance thought that being spotted by Keith was bad, being Keith’s spotter was actually _so much worse_. The first thing that Keith did was add a bit more weight to the barbell, which Lance thought was sort of a show-off thing to do, but he couldn’t help feeling grudgingly impressed. Hot douchebag or not, Keith was fucking _strong_.

So watching him push rep after rep, his stupid hair messy from working out and his cheeks red from the effort and his stupid eyes locked on Lance’s all the while.... It was not fun. Not fun at all.

Especially when Keith began to reach his limits and started biting his fucking lip.

Lance took the bar from Keith’s hands. “Okay, mullet. You’re done,” he said, setting the barbell on the ground and taking off the weights. “That’s enough for today.”

Keith sat up on the bench, for once looking more confused than angry. Maybe he was too worn out to be angry. “What the hell, Lance? I could have gotten a couple more reps in at least.”

 _But I couldn’t have_ , Lance thought privately. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want you straining a muscle just so that you could try to prove you were better than me. That would have been a really dumb way to get hurt, man.”

“Says the guy who did most of his reps without a spotter.”

“Yeah, but unlike _someone_ , I know when to quit,” Lance argued.

Keith made a derisive sound. “That’s probably the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“What, you don’t think I can quit when I need to?”

“No, I _know_ you can’t,” Keith said, smirking.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Lance asked. From across the room, Hunk gave him another one of his Looks™ over Keith’s shoulder. Lance glared back. This was _not_ what he needed right now. “For example,” Lance said to Keith, “just now, I quit our freaky staring contest when it started to get too weird. So there.”

Fuck. Now things were really awkward.

It was the wrong thing to say, and Lance knew it. Keith looked... well, he looked _guilty_. And maybe a little hurt. It made Lance feel like shit. He really hadn’t meant to make Keith feel like he’d accidentally crossed some kind of bro-line when really, this was all Lance’s fault. He opened his mouth to try to do some damage control but he didn’t get the chance.

“Hey everyone,” Shiro said, interrupting their conversation. “I think we’ve all gotten some good work done in here today. Let’s shower up and meet in the central training area in twenty minutes. Sound good?”

They dispersed. Lance went back to his room and took a nice, cold shower. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

—

Lance was right. The cold shower was a good idea. Because it turned out that the next training exercise they did was another mind melding one. Fuck.

Here was the thing: Lance had always had a really easy time at mind melding. He was a pretty honest guy. He didn’t have anything to hide. He was awful at keeping secrets; one time, Hunk had told him that he had a crush on one of Lance’s sisters, and Lance hadn’t lasted even a whole day before he broke down and told her. It was hard for Lance to stop himself from saying what was on his mind.

And now, with this insane crush on Keith (oh God, it was a crush, wasn’t it), Lance was faced with the impossible task of _not telling anyone_. Aside from Hunk, he guessed, but he hadn’t exactly told Hunk—Hunk just knew. But that was besides the point. Lance was bad at this. Lance had a hard enough time hiding things from people when he didn’t have them literally rooting around in his brain.

Which was what was going to happen. Right now.

They were waiting for Hunk to get back from his shower, because for once Lance wasn’t the last to show up. He looked miserably across the room where Keith was sitting on the floor against the wall, his hands folded over his knees. It was so unfair for him to look this good when he was making Lance’s life a living hell. He didn’t look angry when he was sitting alone—just pensive, calm. Then Keith looked up and caught Lance staring. He got to his feet and started to walk over.

Oh well. Lance was already going to be humiliated by the mind melding exercise. What was the use in delaying this? It was probably better to just get it over with, he thought in a resigned sort of way.

“Hey,” Keith said. He stood in front of Lance, his hands stuck in the pockets of his pants.

“Hey,” Lance replied. On the other side of the room, Shiro and Allura were talking about something Pidge was showing them on some kind of computer screen. They weren’t paying attention to them. “What’s up?”

Keith looked down at his feet. “I just wanted to.... I’m sorry I made things weird, back in the weight room. I thought— I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” Lance said. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck, this conversation sucks, why are we talking about this right now_. “I was just... being... weird. About things. Sorry.”

Good job, Lance. Eloquent.

“...Okay,” Keith said. “I didn’t mean to make you... uncomfortable. Fuck.” Keith covered his face with one of his hands, screwing his eyes shut and looking like he’d really rather be doing anything else than standing here having this conversation. Lance understood that. The feeling was mutual.

“Really, it’s cool,” Lance said. “You were, like, totally fine. I was the one who freaked out and made it awkward. So, again—my fault.”

Keith nodded, then let out a small laugh. “The universe must be ending. Who would have thought that Lance Sanchez would pass up an opportunity to blame me for something?”

“Hey, who would have thought that Keith Gyeong would actually try to apologize?” Lance shot back. This, the arguing, it felt at least a little more normal. Lance was used to bickering with Keith, used to poking and prodding and trying to elicit some kind of reaction. He let himself grin a little. Sure, he was going to die in the next ten minutes when the mind meld started, but for now at least he got to pretend it was all okay. “So, we’re friends, right?”

When Keith grinned, it was small, barely there. “Yeah, friends,” he said. Then Hunk finally walked into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. He saw Lance standing next to Keith and Lance could have sworn he saw him roll his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hold everyone up.”

Allura looked like she was about to say something, but Shiro beat her to it. “It’s fine, Hunk. We can get started now, if everyone’s ready.”

Lance would never be ready, but he didn’t think that Shiro was looking for that kind of answer. Instead he just got into his seat and said, with as much false confidence as he could muster, “Yeah, let’s do this!”

They were just going to run through some training scenarios. That was it. It would probably only take an hour, max.

Once everyone was in their positions, Coran started the machine. The low hum of the machine coming to life was like Lance’s own personal death march. Lance figured that if the humiliation didn’t kill him, then Keith probably would.

“Alright everyone! Put the devices on your heads, and let’s get started!” Coran said. Lance waited for everyone else to put on theirs and then, finally, he put on his own.

The sensation of the mind meld had always been strange to him. The best way Lance knew to describe it was to talk about it like he had four more brains attached to his own, murmuring in the background and thinking thoughts he couldn’t control. In a way, it was a little like being drunk. The strange, foreign thoughts of his fellow paladins were sort of similar to the awkward intrusive thoughts he sometimes got when he was wasted or high or really, really tired.

Lance felt a familiar presence push against his consciousness—Hunk. Thank god. _Are you okay_? Hunk asked. _No_ , was the answer, but he wasn’t really sure what Hunk was expecting, anyway.

He tried to calm himself. To his left, Shiro was sitting with his eyes closed. Along the edges where their consciousnesses touched, Lance could feel the hard, stoic organization of Shiro’s thoughts, the order that he used to try to keep himself from slipping. There was something warm about him too, though. Cool, but not cold.

Next to Shiro, there was Pidge. She was different. Her thoughts were constantly firing, constantly reaching. She didn’t feel locked anymore, not like when they’d first practiced the mind meld, but her mind wasn’t the easiest to look into because it was always pushing _out,_ grasping at the tendrils of thought that came into her vicinity.

Hunk was there too, but his mind was less positional and more... _everywhere_. He was all encompassing, soft, comfortable. If Pidge was always reaching out, Hunk was always pulling in.

And then, Keith. Keith, whose mind was just so... _him_ , so intense and jumbled up and hard to keep away from. Keith, who made him think of nothing but dark stupid hair and gray eyes and pink lips that Lance wanted so badly to kiss—

Shit. Hold up.

He tried to think of nothing, which nigh-impossible for him. He tried to think of something else, which was also difficult, but less impossible. He thought of his family back home, his mom and dad, his sisters and brothers, his aunts and—

He felt Keith trying to push at his brain and almost had a heart attack.

The first thing Lance did was slam him back so harshly that he could feel Keith’s indignation as he threw him out. He tried desperately to think of things that weren’t Keith, but ended up panicking instead, which ultimately served the same purpose of covering up his Keith-only thoughts. There was mild confusion from the rest of the paladins.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asked.

“Lance keeps blocking me out,” Keith said.

“Uh,” Lance stuttered, because he couldn’t exactly deny it. “Keith was digging.”

“Was not.”

“Were—”

“Guys,” Pidge cut in, sounding annoyed, “I thought we figured this shit out after I told you guys I was a girl. What’s the hold up?”

There was a pause. Lance realized they were waiting for him to answer.

“It’s nothing,” Lance mumbled. “It’s fine, whatever....”

He focused in on the mind meld again. This time when Keith nudged his consciousness, he didn’t resist. After all, anything he did to try to stop this would only delay the inevitable.

Lance opened his eyes and let his gaze focus on Keith, who was sitting to his right. When Keith turned to look they locked eyes, Keith pushed closer, and Lance just... let go. Let himself remember that morning at breakfast, remember the combat training, remember the way Keith looked above him while he was pushing those weights back in the weight room. The feeling of Keith’s mind, pressed so close that his chaotic thoughts were mixing with his own, was almost intoxicating. He felt Keith picking back through the memories on his own, and that was when the shame hit. Fuck, he wanted to die.

But then... he was seeing all his memories given back to him in reverse—watching himself eat at breakfast, watching himself get hit by the training robot, watching himself lift the barbell, the memories washed over with a want that _wasn’t his_. With a rush he realized that these were Keith’s thoughts, Keith’s memories.

 _Holy shit_.

“Um,” Lance said, taking the mind melding device off of his head. Keith was still staring at him. His face felt way too warm. “I need to go.”

“Yeah, me too,” Keith said. They both got to their feet.

“Hold on, what the fuck?” Pidge said. “Did I miss something?”

“Yes,” Hunk said. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Um, yeah, I do—”

But Lance was already following Keith out the door.

He felt like he was in a daze. Nothing felt real. He was following Keith outside of the training room and he was staring at the back of Keith’s stupid hair and he was even watching Keith’s ass a little, if he was honest, and _holy fuck_ were they going to make out?

“Are we going to make out?” Lance asked, because he apparently didn’t have any filter anymore.

“Uh,” Keith said, turning around. He was definitely blushing. “Sure, I mean, if you want to...?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, nodding his head vigorously. “Yeah, that would be—that would be awesome.”

Keith stopped. Lance stopped. Slowly, Keith stepped away, walking backwards until his back hit the wall. “So,” Keith said, his voice dropping low, “what are you waiting for?”

 _Shit_. He had no idea.

Lance pushed forward and kissed him, felt his soft lips moving against his own. It didn’t take more than three seconds before one of Keith’s hands was tangled in Lance’s hair, the other tucked in the back pocket of Lance’s pants. It hit him like a fucking bus. _He was kissing Keith_. He was kissing Keith, and he was really fucking loving it.

He pulled back for a moment, letting it all sink in.

“Why did you pull back?” Keith asked, his lips grazing Lance’s throat. Goddamn, he was really into this.

“I just wanted to, I don’t know, try to commit this to memory?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later, Sanchez.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome,” Lance said. “I’m looking forward to—”

He didn’t get to finish. Keith cut him off with another kiss.

Lance could definitely get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, feel free to check out my other Klance fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=10104017&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=Pugglemuggle)!


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